Runes
by Darth Krande
Summary: Some years after Order 66, a clone pilot is sitting alone in a pirate ship's barren cell. Maybe his life is about to turn for the better?


**Runes**

Inspiration came from "Imprisoned..." by Hashhaha, you can find it on DeviantArt

He dreamt he was still flying.

In the dream, he was somehow flying in the new one-person fighter, but in formation with his former General, who was piloting the standard Jedi starfighter his unit was so familiar with.

Then, in just like every other nightmare he had had for the past two years, the holoprojector activated in front of him (in truth, these new fighters didn't even have built-in holoprojectors) and he received the order just like in every dream for two years now... and just like back then, above the lush forests of Corlassi, he opened fire on the fighter, and his General demanded an explanation, to which he only had one reply. "New orders."

The starfighter in front of him went down, in a much brighter explosion than it had happened in real life. But still, he could see the wreck crashing into the Corlassi jungle, and he followed to make sure no traitor would get out of it alive.

Runes woke up. He was still cold in the torn remains of his spacesuit, and he could barely feel his arms chained above his head. In front of him, one of his Sluissi captors was standing, with his large snake-like tail reaching between the bars of his cell. Apparently, the creature slid in instead of opening the prison door.

"You didn't seem to be sleeping well, clone" the snake-with-hands pointed out. Runes looked into his eyes for a long moment, then again rested his back against the cold wall. If he would ignore the Sluissi for long enough, maybe he would leave him alone. There was nothing for them to discuss. He pulled his left leg slightly closer to himself, and stared down the cold grey floor-tiles.

By now, he very clearly knew who the traitors were.

They, clone troopers. They had been created to betray the Republic. The Jedi were the last standing pillars of the structure, and they took them out under one single order from the Supreme Chancellor.

Thinking back, he wouldn't have done otherwise. They never had other option but to obey and endure. Just like they coped with the numerous born volunteers in the army after the Empire's formation. The only thing that kept him (for a short while) in the good graces of his superiors was the fact that he had killed a Jedi. But even that went forgotten with time: he became one of the many clones to be used for whatever task a born trooper would refuse.

He relaxed against the thick metal cuffs on his wrists, and tried to conjure up a memory of when he was still flying.

His fighter had been shot roughly two days before. Runes knew it shouldn't have felt to be that long time... it wouldn't be more than four days of a normally aging pilot's life. There were occasions when he felt time to be tearing into him twice as much as it should have been reasonable.

And to be honest, it wasn't like these pirates were intentionally abusing him. They cleaned out his wounds, they provided him water and sometimes some food that tasted much better than the regular Imperial rations. Once or twice they asked if he felt like telling something important, but they had never seemed to be pressing the issue. They felt more like to be just keeping him in storage – of what he'd caught of their speech, they were waiting for some "Cap" to board their vessel. Runes didn't feel like finding out who this mysterious captain might have been.

"Here, take this." The Sluissi was back. "Mild sedative pill. You seem to need it, clone."

Runes stood up with some effort, so that his chained hands would have some range of motion. He carefully held the pill between his teeth while drinking the good cup of water it came with. Then, when he thought the snake-creature wasn't watching, he spat it out. To his surprise, he only got an insulted look from his captor. A Kaminoan would have hit him on the neck for the offense.

"Well, it's not like the Cap would be after my blood if you don't let me help you" he told the clone, leaving.

Alone once again, Runes slowly sank to the floor, trying to catch some sleep.

He remembered when he first encountered the Nasty Nexu Network. It was a small cell of the Nebula Front, a larger organization that hated Republic and CIS alike. The Nasty Nexu, as his General explained him, served as a gathering point of outlaws who didn't feel like sharing the name "pirate" with murderers who served one political purpose or another.

"Most of them are refugees in a way" the General mused back then. "It wasn't their choice, they just ended up on the wrong end of a situation or another" Runes recalled him telling the squadron. "They aren't bad people. And before you would ask why I let them go, let me remind you that any of us might find ourselves at their mercy at one point or another."

Runes suppressed a pained sigh. Perhaps one of those criminals whom the General didn't let them execute had blasted his fighter from under his sorry aft.

Not that it mattered to anyone else, really. He learned very quickly that in the Empire, a clone's life was worth even less than in the Republic era. They had wiped out the Jedi, their task was done. After three years of civil war, most systems didn't have the reserves to fight yet another enemy. And those who disagreed with the Emperor's governing style, had sided with the Confederation, and so they were already defeated. The need for elite clone troopers had dropped significantly.

Not for the first time, Runes wondered if his General was still alive. They had found the wreck of his starfighter with the cockpit still sealed from inside. The Jedi's torn, sand-brown cloak had been on the seat, but there was no body to be found. After Order 66, Runes had often wondered how his General would have acted in one situation or another. Back then, he had appeared to be kind and easy-going, and he had liked meddling with his people. They could turn to him with any question, and he had always answered to the best of his knowledge. When Runes asked why it hadn't bothered him, the General replied something like remembering when he was an overly curious teenager himself.

Compared to this: his new superiors mocked him when he had politely asked them to call him by his name. He was told he hadn't had a need for a name, and to shut up.

Because he was just a clone, he did.

He never complained. Not before, not after. Not when he was chained to the wall of a small grey prison cell. In some ways, these pirates had treated him better than his own superiors had in the past two years. If his head wouldn't have ached so much (he had crashed on his right ear hard when he was dragged on board from the open space) he would call this cell luxurious. The food was better for certain.

Maybe he should have accepted the sedative, he mused. One little pill less or more, why would it have mattered? He pulled his left leg closer again, and tried to sleep.

And he dreamt he was flying again.

He enjoyed the memory of the silence of space, the familiar cold emptiness, the whine of the engines behind his seat, those familiar footsteps he would always recognize...

Wait. What footsteps would be heard in space?

He woke to find his arms aching from their unnatural position above his head. He guessed to have slumbered for an hour or two.

He had indeed heard footsteps. It didn't take much brain capacity to realize it had to be the Captain of the criminals, as the crew he was familiar with consisted of creatures with no legs. But no, his ears hadn't betrayed him. He heard _those_ footsteps, coming down the corridor, taking the turn to the right...

With a flash of shame, he looked up to make eye contact. Despite the bruises from the crash, he managed to open both. He had to see.

"Runes? Runes, I can't believe, it IS you!"

Burn marks on his visitor's face hinted at the explosion he survived, at the fire he had apparently been through. After all, the last time they'd met, Runes was trying to eliminate him.

"Ge... General?"


End file.
